Infernal Infantiles
by 100TenMillion
Summary: Ezekiel kills himself. A detective goes out to find out why. Warning: WILL get sadder
1. Chapter 1

Infernal Infantiles

Episode 1: In Hell a word echoes.

"I!!!"- was that word. I. What is I? In the English language, I is the affirmation of the self. In the Spanish Language, ay, which is pronounced the same, is the sound of pain. In the Japanese language, Ai, also pronounced the same, means love. The man who killed himself said that as his last word. He spoke those three languages. His name was Ezekiel Hershel Broflovski. Jewish Canadian descent. Aged 32. All in all, too young to die.

Suicide has become much more common these days. Used to be that you had over half a million suicide cases a year. These days, that number is up to 1.5 million. Their faces only show one of these emotions: sorrow, joy or regret. Not this one. This guy shows clear rage.

He left the TV on. Damn, another one of those anti suicide commercials. "People care about you. So, if you ever feel sad, or lonely, please give us a call at-"- I turn the fricking thing off. Shit, when will those TV guys get it in their heads? Those commercials don't work for shit.

Guy had a clean apartment. For a dive complex as this, this guy had a clean place to live in. His neighbor's apartment smells like roach shit. His other neighbor's smells like old cum. This guy's apartment smells like soap. Damn Jew, why he had to do it? Sure, this neighborhood is a pit, but…

What am I looking for, you ask? A diary, an itinerary, anything. This guy did not have good relations with his neighbors, and the landlord is… fishy, to say the least. Did this guy have any friends, any work colleagues? It's my job to find out why people kill themselves. Damn, a detective that specializes in suicides. This is the world these days.

Bingo. A diary. I open the first page. This is all I could find. I can tell, just by looking at it, that it encompasses at least half the guy's life. Shit. I need to figure out why he offed himself, he gives me a piss poor diary to search for clues as to why. Why don't people just leave goodbye notes? It's easier.

Lieutenant Duncan Steele looks especially interested in this case. I ask him why.

"I knew this guy. From a long time ago, specifically from that old show, TDI,"-he says. TDI, or Total Drama Island, was an old Reality Show where these 22 kids competed for a hundred grand. Quite popular in its day, but the ratings plummeted after a little while. 22 Kids, one of them is a Lieutenant, the other's a corpse. Ironic.

"He was actually the first one to get kicked out. Poor sucker, we kicked him out because he was a sexist,"-says Lt. Steele. Now that is a shocker. I've seen the living quarters of plenty of misogynists. None of them ever smell of soap. First time for all, huh?

I am thinking that maybe, just maybe, he killed himself because he could no longer live with the shame. I quickly disregard that hypothesis. If he did, why did he look so angry? And why did he wait sixteen years to do it?

Before I even tackle this mystery, I need to take a Rorschach.

The first image I am given, I see a dead dog. I tell them it's a bunny. The second I see an atomic blast, I tell them it's a tree. The third I see a couple having sex, I tell them it's a couple dancing. I pass. This is ridiculous. What is the point of any of this?

Suicide detectives have to take constant Rorschach tests so as to ensure they are not slipping. In my line of work, you either become so desensitized by these deaths that you just don't care anymore, or you become so depressed that you become one of the victims. I have had to investigate at least three other detective suicides before. It eventually got easier. Eventually.

I set the diary down, and prepare a cup of coffee. Momma once told me, people that kill themselves always say one last thing before they die. What they say echoes all the way down to Hell, where they hear themselves. I still shudder at the idea. I imagine the guy in Hell, hearing himself yell "I!!!" A bone chilling idea.

It dawns on me. This suicide is different. A suicide's last words are scarcely important. It's always either 'Goodbye!!!' or any variant. This guy said 'I'. What did he mean by that? Why would he yell such a thing? Why would someone who goes through the trouble of making his apartment smell so good in a dive as that? This guy, he's different.

Who were you, Ezekiel? And why did you die? Why do I care? I COULD just rule you out as a psycho, but I can't. You, sir, are different, special in a way. Your diary. Yes, whoever you were is here. It SHOULD be here.

I open it, and read the first page:

_The diary of Ezekiel Hershel Broflovski._

_Dear Diary:_

_Bridgette told me to keep a diary, and write in it for the rest of my life. She said it was a good idea, eh? But I don't think I will be able to write everyday like she told me. So instead, I'm just gonna write about the important stuff._

(I sure hope he kept true to his word. This diary has only a handful of entries. I should investigate who this Bridgette is)

_Dear Diary:_

_Today is my first day of school!! I asked mom and dad, and pleaded, and they finally said I could go!!! I am so happy. Today, I hope to make lots of friends. I just hope I don't run into someone like Heather, eh!!_

Ah. Something is off here. Why would a 16 year old plead with his parents to actually let him go to school, especially a public school? And who is this Heather?

"See, that kid was home schooled. Matter of fact, we tended to make fun of him for it. Heather? Back then, we would have called her a bitch. But man oh man, compared to what WE'VE seen, she was a saint looking back at it,"- Lt. Steele told me.

Home schooled. Afraid to meet a Libby. This kid must have led a pretty damn sheltered life.

Here's a photo of him from those days. He looks like a sad little cock sucker to me.

How does a shrimpy little home schooled kid like him end up a suicidal? And not just any suicide, but the first one I've seen to be so… haunting. That angered face. He could scare the Devil shitless…

**To be continued…**


	2. Chapter 2

Infernal Infantiles

Episode 2:

_Dear Diary:_

_Today, some jerks were accosting Heather, again. I told them to stop it. I punched them a bit, and one of them needed stitches. Heather likes me now. We are going out. My first girlfriend. Woo!!!_

(Pathetic. Truly pathetic. Shit, this is not what I wanted to find. Ezekiel, why the hell is this chick so important to you? Shit, just the fact that she is your first? On the other hand, you sure as hell wasn't no attractive guy…)

_Dear Diary:_

_Heather and I ate Chinese food. We didn't talk today, either._

( Is this… wait a second. How much time passes between these two entries? Could be a few weeks. Could be years. The ink from this entry is different from the ink from the last one)

_Dear Diary:_

_Heather and I are through. She left me._

Shit, Zeek. Shit. I have a pretty good hypothesis now. He was so mad that his girlfriend left him, he killed himself. Helps explain the angry look. He said Ai, which sounds like I. Ai means love. It is completely plausible. But, I need to corroborate. I need to find this Heather girl.

It dawns on me. It IS a possibility. Could this Heather be the same as the Heather LT. Steele told me about? I check the photograph. No chance. A girl like her with a guy like HIM? She may be on the slutty side, but even I can tell she is WAY out of his league. Damn, I mean, wow. I'd hit that. I'd hit that over the ball park.

Here's the address I got. She must be here. A nice neighborhood. Not too ritzy, not too suburban. Almost has a country side feel to it. I ring the door bell. She answers. Nature has been TOO kind to her. A few crows feet don't take away from the fact that the lady has the face of an angel. Shit man, hide your boner.

I explain to her my business. I don't mention, however, that Ezekiel died of suicide. That sort of thing… you just don't go around saying willy nilly. Not in this business, anyway.

"Oh… Zekey… I… I am so sorry to hear you died,"-damn, even when she is crying she looks smoking hot. Hide that boner, man.

"So, you confirm that he and you were… involved?"- I ask.

"Yeah… after the show… It goes without saying but, I was… not very popular,"-quite the understatement. I checked. Heather had been voted number three of Realizine's Top 10 most hated people in Reality TV that year. The top two? A guy who dressed as Sasquatch, and some gold digging nigger. But I digress- "He was my only friend for a long time. Eventually, we hooked up,"

"So, when did you end that relationship, and why?"- Hide that boner, man. She's married.

"We dated, for about a year. We… we just became one of those bored couples, you know? He and I actually had too little in common. Eventually, we just didn't have anything we could talk about. I remember, before breaking up… I was starved for a conversation… I tried talking to him about his disappearing accent… I… he just brushed it off,"- shit, she's crying now. Don't know why.

One year had passed from between the relationship's beginning and end. This relationship began, by my calculations, about a year after the show ended. They hooked up by age 17, broke up by age 18. This was 15 years ago. This thread led me nowhere.

"He killed himself, didn't he?'- How did she know!!!??- "You are a suicide detective. A regular detective wouldn't ask me about how my relationship ended until after he or she asked me if he had any enemies."

This is one smart lady. Hehe. She could be my assistant any day. Or maybe, just my piece of ass.

"Did you read the whole diary he had? I remember he had one. He only wrote in it when something important happened. Like the day when he and I had our biggest fight. He wrote in it… didn't he?"-she asked.

"All he ever wrote was about how you two just ate Chinese food. He wrote that you two didn't talk that day,"-I respond.

"Yeah, maybe he didn't want to write about it. We… I mean… that was the day we both knew, that relationship was not going to last,"-she said.

In any case, my hypothesis has been thrown out the window. Shit. But I am not giving up.

"What kind of man was he? Why do you suspect he killed himself?"-I ask her.

"Well, he was always very nice to me. Even when we fought, he always watched what he said. He was a bit melancholy, a bit shy. In a way, he was always just gradually coming out of his shell. I liked him for that. I wish…"-she's crying again. After a while, you just kind of wish they stop crying over the lost one and get over it.

The Ezekiel she described does not fit the corpse I saw.

"How did he die?"-she asks. Never ask me that. Never ask someone how someone else killed himself. But… well, sometimes, you just have to.

"Bullet to the head,"-was the answer I gave her. No way am I gonna tell her how he looked when he died. So angry, almost full of hate.

Hate? Did he hate someone? That is an interesting hypothesis. He killed himself because he hated himself. Plausible. I need to check more evidence.

Heather told me that Ezekiel went to Alberta University. That is where I am going. I'm waist deep in this case…

**To be continued…**


End file.
